


Rattling the Bars

by eurydice72



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:59:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydice72/pseuds/eurydice72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CBI agent Arthur Pendragon is on a rescue mission - to fetch the man his father's kidnapper is demanding as ransom. When the escape goes wrong, however, he has little choice but to team up with his target's guard, independent mercenary Gwaine. Arthur and Gwaine go way back, but this night will test their friendship in ways it's never been tested before. </p><p>It just might give it a future, too. Provided they survive...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rameau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rameau/gifts).



> I saw your request for plot and pretty much ran with it. Thank you for the opportunity to write these guys!

The moon sat in the sky’s pocket, offering just enough illumination to turn the train into an inky shadow shooting over the English countryside. From Arthur’s vantage in the open door of the helipod, the train’s engines were a low hum, cascading into a rhythm that soothed his jangled nerves. He hadn’t been this anxious about an assignment in months. On paper, it was a simple escape. Drop in, short-circuit the cell’s locks, get his target, and get the hell off the train.

Easy. He’d done this, or something similar, a thousand times over.

But his stomach refused to settle, and every small movement set his teeth on edge. His chilling orders had been clear.

“Fail to get him out, and your father dies.”

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the image of Agravaine’s rattlesnake gaze. He should’ve known something was wrong when Uther had failed to keep his standing Sunday dinner appointment. Even when Arthur wasn’t in the city, Uther insisted on the formality, rotating invitations among the country’s upper class. “To keep up appearances,” he’d always said. 

But instead of being concerned, Arthur had used his absence as an excuse to skip out early, too eager for a rare night on his own in London. And Agravaine had used his distraction to grab him in Soho in the wee hours of the morning, locking him away for over eighteen hours before coming to him with his ransom demand.

He had no idea how long Uther had actually been missing. For all he knew, Uther was—

He clenched his jaw. No. He wasn’t going there. Not right before he had to jump from two hundred feet onto a moving train.

His earpiece crackled. “All matched, sir,” the pilot said.

Now that the helipod’s flight was synchronized with the train’s speed, Arthur thumbed the ionization strip on his wrist to lock in on the same trajectory and, without looking back, gave the pilot a thumb’s up. The jump plate vibrated beneath his feet. A second later, the magnetic field vanished, and Arthur stepped into open air.

When it came to jumps, nobody in England clocked the success rate Arthur Pendragon did. He’d made his first at the age of ten, sneaking onto a practice flight when he was supposed to be grounded for getting into a fight at school. Uther had punished him for the infraction, but after that, he allowed Arthur to train with the other potential candidates, until, at the age of nineteen, he became the youngest agent to ever be granted mission status at CBI.

Arthur didn’t do it for the honor or recognition, though he knew Uther harbored dreams of his son taking over as head of CBI some day. His reasons were more selfish, the adrenaline that came with each accomplished assignment, the satisfaction that what he did made a difference in keeping his small corner of the world a safer place for those unable to do it themselves.

But right now, falling through the open air, the night licking at his heels and the ground rushing up to meet him, it was all about doing what he must to save his father.

His landing target was the third car from the end. Though it had the appearance of one of the traditional passenger trains that ran between London and Edinburgh, his intel said it had been privately requisitioned and remodeled specifically to its owner’s demands. Behind the engine lead were two social cars, one for dining, the other for meetings. Then came a sleeper with quarters for up to six occupants, followed by a tech box, insulated and impenetrable without special authorization.

The cell he needed to open came in the middle of the three storage cars running directly behind the tech, two away from where he would land. In his initial brief, the instructions had him dropping straight onto the cell car, but Arthur had signed in to change the directive as soon as Agravaine deposited him back at CBI. Agravaine failed to provide any concrete information regarding the train’s owner other than warning against extreme security measures, so Arthur wanted an approach and time to assess his surroundings. He had no idea who it was Agravaine wanted him to free. He wasn’t about to get himself killed because he underestimated his target.

Halfway down, he deployed the dampeners that would slow his descent. The night made it difficult to keep his landing centered on his visor’s display, erasing the train from view more than once. In those moments, his heart skipped a few beats as his thoughts leapt to worst possible scenarios, but then the train would come back into focus, closer than ever, and Arthur could cage his doubts again to concentrate on the mission.

He landed with a knee-jarring thud and rolled forward as his fall’s momentum collided with the difference in the train’s. His shoulder scraped against a raw metal edge, and Arthur hissed as a blast of the chilly air seared across his freshly exposed skin. Damn it, he didn’t have time for an injury. Gritting against the sting, he probed the cut, ignoring the blood that warmed his fingertips. The edges felt clean, but it ran several inches, long enough to warrant looking at it as soon as he got off the train.

Not now, though. He had a lock to disarm.

He crept along the car to its edge, back bowed to keep from losing his balance. The distance between each car was less than a foot, but speeding along at over a hundred miles an hour turned a simple jump into something more precarious. He nailed the first short leap without a slip. At the second, as he tensed to make the jump, the metal shook beneath him.

His heel slipped from where he’d braced it against a narrow lip, and his leg shot forward. On a longer stretch, he would’ve landed on his ass. Here, with open air instead, he lurched downward, sliding into the breach.

Arthur scrambled to grab onto anything he could reach to stop his fall. When his knuckles knocked against a service rail, he twisted into the drop so he could catch it, jerking to a halt with his feet dangling over the electrified coupling. The muscles burned where they stretched across his shoulder, lessening only when he shifted his weight to get a second grip on the bar. Damn it. Nothing was going right. It was no wonder his nerves were a fucking mess.

He took a moment to breathe in and out, calming down before climbing back up to the next car. The sooner he got off this train, the happier he was going to be. And as soon as he made the exchange with Agravaine, he was putting in a request for a leave so he could hunt the man down and remove him as a threat against CBI and the Pendragons ever again.

In order to unlock the cell from the outside, he needed to short out the power supply to the car, at the same time setting up a loop on the train’s relay to keep from setting off whatever internal alarm system they might have. There would probably be a guard on the cell, but that was the least of Arthur’s worries. Hand to hand was his greatest strength.

It was the tech that always scared the shit out of him.

He found the panel he needed on his first pass and opened it in less than thirty seconds. That was the easy part. Not so easy was remembering which port led to which control. Jacking into the wrong one would make this a hell of a lot harder than it had to be.

He rolled the pin back and forth between his fingers as he stared at the ports, willing them to fall into a familiar pattern. He was almost to the eeny meeny miney mo stage when he saw it, and he exhaled in relief as he pushed the pin into place. Two minutes later, he’d bypassed the central computer and taken control of the storage car.

His emotions were a roiling mess by the time he unlocked the cell. Muffled shouts rang out from beneath him, sharpening Arthur’s focus again. The prisoner had a guard, after all. Now he wished he hadn’t had to kill the lights in order to take out the cell locks.

Though he didn’t much like the idea of dropping into the middle of a fight, Arthur overrode the security on the access portal and ducked his head through the opening to scan the interior. The night vision on his visor took a moment to switch from the moonlight to the windowless exterior, but he could still make out the general layout of the storage car. 

The cell was located at the other end, a four-by-four space built against the outside wall. As his vision adjusted, he saw that its walls were the latest tech, a fine mesh made of a charged silver alloy. Depending on how much charge was added, touching it could mean anything from a shock to certain death. Arthur wouldn’t have to worry about that, though. He’d deactivated it—albeit unknowingly—when he’d shorted out the power supply. 

What he would have to worry about was how the door hung from its hinges. That took an act of brutal strength.

_Supernatural_ strength.

No human being was capable of such a feat.

The battle he’d heard was already winding down. Two bodies were locked together in front of the cage, but the shouts he’d heard from above were now just grunts. Flesh hit flesh, but there was no way for him to tell who was who. Grasping the edge of the portal, Arthur swung inside, landing on his feet facing the fight.

The man on top froze, his gaze swiveling around to pinpoint Arthur. Arthur was already reaching for his gun, but as the man fixed on him, his reach faltered, shocked by the man’s appearance. He had eyes that burned a bright gold, illuminating scaly skin stretched so tightly over his gaunt features, it looked like it would crack and bleed at the slightest touch. His lips curled back to reveal razor-sharp teeth. In the next breath, flames burst from his gaping maw.

Arthur dove sideways, avoiding the fire by scant inches. His injured shoulder slammed into the wall, but by the time he’d swung his weapon around, the man had raced past him, leaping upward to disappear through the open access portal.

A groan came from the other end of the car. Arthur’s gaze swung back and forth, his mental debate short. Pursue someone he might never catch, or interrogate the one left behind and hope he was the one Agravaine wanted. He had little hope for the latter, but when the former breathed fire…

Easy choice.

Keeping his gun ready, he crept along the wall, watching the man who’d been left behind slowly push himself up. “Keep your hands where I can see them,” Arthur barked.

The man stopped, fingers splayed along the floor. “Always pegged you for a bossy top, Pendragon.”

The familiar flirtation froze Arthur in his tracks, his heart speeding up for a whole host of reasons this time, not the least of which was confronting this man would be infinitely simpler than he’d anticipated. Weapons were unnecessary, but he kept it loose in his hand instead of sheathing it again. “Please tell me you’ve gone rogue.” Though if that were true, the last thing Arthur wanted to do was hand him over to Agravaine.

Slowly, the man lifted his head. Though he didn’t wear a visor, his dark gaze fixed on Arthur without a blink of hesitation. It was just one of the many skills Arthur had hoped to harness for CBI over the years, but Gwaine was a stubborn bastard and refused every single job offer Arthur lobbed in his direction. He hired his services out to anyone willing to foot the bill, making him one of the most sought-after mercenaries in Europe. His only caveat seemed to be that the foot could never belong to a Pendragon.

His teeth flashed when he grinned. “Someone’s off his game. The Arthur I know and mock wouldn’t set me up so easily.”

Arthur snorted. “You know what I mean.”

“I know your fortuitous timing must mean you’re the reason my prisoner got free.” A faint edge crept into Gwaine’s voice. “Couldn’t meet your quota of baddies for dear old dad so you had to come after mine?”

“This isn’t—” His jaw snapped shut. He didn’t have time to waste arguing, though his target had to be off the train and out of his immediate reach by now. Sagging against the wall, he put away his gun, his mind racing in search of his next step.

“Arthur?” Yet another new tone, something he’d call concern if it came from anyone but Gwaine. “Since you’ve put away your toys, mind if I get up now?”

He didn’t need to ask, but he had anyway. Arthur nodded, knowing Gwaine would see it.

Though Gwaine had taken a beating from his fire-breathing prisoner, he rose to his feet, rubbing at the broken skin of his knuckles. The side of his shirt was singed, exposing blackened skin beneath, but he never uttered a word of complaint. “Catching Kilgarrah again is going to be a bitch.”

The name jolted Arthur from his thoughts. In the decade the mutation had been on the hunt list, nobody had ever managed to get close to bringing him in. Arthur had always respected Gwaine, but now it ratcheted even higher. “How’d you do it?”

“Spot of luck.”

“No, really.”

“All you’re getting. Because if you think I’m sharing all my tricks so you can cage him for yourself, you must’ve hit your head harder than I thought.”

“I didn’t know he was the one in the cage,” Arthur admitted. That part was true, anyway, even if his intention had been closer to Gwaine’s accusations than made him comfortable. “I wouldn’t have killed the power, otherwise.” They both knew how dangerous Kilgarrah was. It occurred to him a moment too late exactly why Gwaine must’ve been after him. “You did this for Percival.”

His silence was telling. Percival Knight had been one of CBI’s best. Arthur had initially convinced Uther to hire him in hopes it would lure Gwaine into the organization, too, but he’d proven himself more driven and focused than anyone else other than Arthur. Half the reason Arthur had never acted on his attraction to Gwaine had been out of certainty Gwaine wouldn’t consider abandoning his playboy lifestyle for anyone other than Percival.

But then a year ago, Percival had followed an unsanctioned lead on the mutation all the way to France. Uther refused to send reinforcements, calling it an exercise in futility, and by the time Arthur had arrived to back Percival up, all that remained was his charred corpse.

He hadn’t seen or heard from Gwaine in all the time since.


	2. Chapter 2

The last thing Gwaine wanted on this trip was CBI nosing its corporate way into his collar, but at least Uther had the decency to send Arthur to try the steal. Anyone else, and Gwaine wouldn’t have pushed Kilgarrah the necessary inches to keep the intruder from being another barbecued casualty. This one was for Percival, just like Arthur had guessed. Gwaine had no plans of resting until he’d avenged a death that never should’ve been.

Arthur presented a problem. Gwaine wasn’t about to give up on this capture because Uther finally decided to do the right thing, but Arthur was a friend—a gorgeous, charming, unexpectedly honorable one who’d loved Percival as much as Gwaine had. More than once, Gwaine had considered what it would be like to take it further, especially when Arthur seemed to respond to his flirtations, but true opportunity had never worked in his favor. Add in the fact that he was still a Pendragon, and it was probably for the best nothing had ever happened.

Arthur was only an outline now, slumped against the wall. His visor distorted the shape of his head, and one broad shoulder curved lower than the other. 

Gwaine frowned. “Did Kilgarrah get you?” he asked before he could think to still the impulse.

“No. Rough landing.”

“Since when can’t Arthur Pendragon manage a jump without getting hurt?”

“Since you’ve managed to find some deep pockets to finance your hunt.” He pushed away from the wall, a grunt escaping him Gwaine was certain he hadn’t intended. “Don’t be a stranger, Gwaine. Percival wasn’t your only friend, you know.”

The almost bitter reminder momentarily stunned Gwaine, but when Arthur turned toward the door at the end of the car, he broke out of his stasis to leap forward and catch Arthur’s elbow. “And where is it you think you’re going?”

Though Arthur looked pointedly at the hand that held him, Gwaine refused to let him go. Arthur sighed. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“You’d lose.”

“You always say that. And you’re always wrong.”

“That’s because you get amnesia every time I beat you.” Oh, how he’d missed this. Arthur was the height of professionalism when the situation called for it, but he never failed to give back as good as he got, all without taking it to heart. He had always been one of the few Gwaine thought truly understood him, though not even Arthur knew the darker shadows lurking in Gwaine’s past that drove him. “Look. You’re hurt, and frankly, you’re going to get off this train and then you’re going to stand there and just scratch your head because you’ll have no idea what direction Kilgarrah might’ve taken. So why don’t we go patch you up, and you can regale me with stories about why your father thinks now of all times it’s such a grand idea to get in my way.”

Arthur tensed beneath his grasp. “Father has no idea I’m here.”

“Even more reason for you to explain yourself, then.” He tugged him toward the open access portal, though he kept it easy on Arthur’s shoulder. He simply needed to stop him from leaving, not hurt him more. “And since you were so kind to cut the power that would open the door for me, you get to be the one to give me a hand up.”

Arthur glanced up at the hole in the ceiling and shook his head. “You’ll never be able to pull me up there with all my gear on. I should go first.”

“You think I’m that thick? You’ll scarper off.”

“No. I have a feeling we’re going to need each other in order to see this night through.”

Something about the solemnity in Arthur’s voice cut through Gwaine’s natural mistrust. “All right,” he said. To prove his sincerity, he entwined his fingers and crouched down. “But I’m reserving the right to throw you off the train if you try anything up there.”

Arthur was heavier than he anticipated, weighted down by his drop gear just like he’d claimed. Gwaine clenched his jaw and tightened his stance, keeping solid as he lifted Arthur the inches necessary for him to grab onto the edge of the opening. He stayed with him as Arthur took the bulk of his weight himself, guiding him straight until Arthur was through and blotting out what little illumination filtered down from the night sky.

As Gwaine pulled over the stool he’d been using to guard Kilgarrah, Arthur poked his head back through the portal. “I’m guessing nobody else knows I cut the power yet.”

“Every car’s power is self-contained,” Gwaine said. “So if one unit goes bad, the entire train isn’t disabled.”

“That takes money.”

Stepping onto the stool, Gwaine grabbed Arthur’s forearm. “CBI isn’t the only game in town.”

Once they were both on the roof, Gwaine dropped to his hands and knees to crawl to the end of the car. The bitter wind cut through his light clothing, but though it numbed his body to the burns and aches that lingered from the fight with Kilgarrah, he was still glad to swing over the edge and get out of the direct blast. He dropped onto the platform outside the door of the next car and pressed his thumb to the reader, counting silently as the computer scanned his print.

Five seconds later, he was inside, and he finally glanced back to check whether or not Arthur had followed him down.

He had. Gwaine grinned in spite of his residual frustration about Kilgarrah’s escape.

Arthur Pendragon was the biggest reason CBI was so widely accepted by the men behind the British figureheads. While Uther might have the political savvy to keep his company the single most powerful in the nation, with everyone from the Queen to Richard Branson reliant on his agents to take care of difficult problems, it was the face Arthur presented that convinced them they were doing the right thing in trusting them. His was the blue-eyed, broad-shouldered school boy ideal that dared people not to trust in him. When Arthur Pendragon took your hand, looked you in the eye, and said he would get the job done, you believed him.

Gwaine certainly wasn’t immune to those charms. In his case, however, he’d had the overwhelming desire to throw Arthur to the floor and shag his brains out, too.

Arthur pulled off his visor as Gwaine flicked on the lights. “Where’d you pick up Kilgarrah?” he asked.

“Coming in off the Channel.” That sort of information seemed safe enough to share. But when he turned back to Arthur, he hissed at the sight of him. “Bloody hell, mate, you look like, well, hell.”

In the light, he could finally see the ragged edges along Arthur’s shoulder blade where something had torn through his suit and gouged out a chunk of his skin. Fresh blood oozed from the injury, but it was the haggard shadows beneath Arthur’s eyes that shocked Gwaine more than anything else. Blood was just another part of the game. Arthur looked like he hadn’t slept in a week, his cheekbones gaunt, his gaze haunted.

Arthur’s lips thinned as he regarded Gwaine for long, heavy seconds. Each one made him squirm. The silent act was one of his weaknesses and Arthur knew it.

Unable to take it any longer, Gwaine brushed past Arthur to get to the storage cabinets on the other side. “Always knew I’d get your kit off one way or another.” This storage car had served as a surgery before they started the long trek for Edinburgh. Both Gwaine and Kilgarrah had been hurt during the fight, Kilgarrah more so thanks to the poison Gwaine had been able to shoot him up with that knocked him out and temporarily stifled his fire-breathing. Dr. McDonald had patched them both up in here, which meant there would be plenty of supplies for tending Arthur’s shoulder. “Let’s stitch up that cut, shall we?”

He listened to the sounds of Arthur unstrapping his gear as he rummaged around for bandages, needle, and thread. When he turned back around, his brows shot up.

Arthur had peeled his flight suit away from his torso, leaving his chest and back bare. Heavy muscles gleamed with a slight sheen of sweat, the blond hair curling around his flat nipples delectably damp. Well-built men had always been Gwaine’s favorite, but though he’d seen Arthur in varying states of dress over the years, he hadn’t been quite prepared for just how sharply cut he really was.

“Shit, that looks worse than I thought it was,” Arthur said, half-twisting to peer at it over his shoulder.

Gwaine snapped out of his fog to step around Arthur, pushing gently on his unhurt side to guide him onto a stool. “Are we going to talk about what you’re doing here, or do we keep up the chitchat until you get bored with it?”

Arthur went still. “Considering you’re not sharing details, I don’t see why I should.”

“Touché.”

“However, if you did decide to tell me how you managed to get Kilgarrah…”

Meaning, there was room for negotiation here. Arthur could always be reliable that way.

Gwaine remained silent as he daubed away the fresh blood from the scratch, mentally cataloguing the various scars that already decorated Arthur’s back. Just like the blood, it was yet another part of the business, but these begged for their stories to be told, insight into the man rather than the assignment that Gwaine found so appealing. One near his armpit was definitely a gunshot, but a long, narrow sliver that crawled down Arthur’s left side to disappear beneath his suit hinted at a much more interesting tale.

None of these had anything to do with the matter at hand, though. And as intriguing as it might be to test how far he could take Arthur, they needed to find their middle ground first. “Who did you think was going to be in the cage if you didn’t know it was him?” he asked.

Arthur sighed. “I had no idea.”

“And you took the assignment anyway? How drunk were you?”

“I wasn’t.” He paused. “I didn’t have a choice.”

That sounded ominous. Gwaine let him chew on it for a minute as he uncapped the peroxide. “Brace yourself. I’ve got to sterilize this before I sew you up.”

The only sign of discomfort Arthur made as Gwaine poured the cold liquid over the open wound was a tensing of the muscles in his back. As it sizzled along the cut, Gwaine winced in sympathy, moving as quickly as he could to get past the worst of it. 

“Do you remember Agravaine?”

Though Arthur’s head was bent, his voice low, Gwaine heard him easily. “Wasn’t he the wanker who was sniffing around your sister a few years back?”

“Yeah. That was him.”

If memory served, Morgana had strung him along, purely to get back at Uther and his controlling ways. In Gwaine’s book, nobody had more daddy issues than she did. “I thought she gave him the boot.”

“She did.”

“Don’t tell me she took him back.”

“No. His interest in Morgana wasn’t just about her, though. He’s had an issue with my father for years.”

Gwaine pulled the last stitch tight. “So does half of Europe, mate.” Cutting the thread, he tossed aside his needle and reached for a clean bandage. “All done. Don’t play too rough now. You’ve got some of my best work there.”

Arthur glanced back to watch him tape the gauze into place. His gaze remained downcast, the shadows beneath it still gut-wrenching. “I need to know I can trust you to keep a confidence, Gwaine.”

Arthur’s solemnity killed any glib remark he could possibly make. “You have my word.”

When he lifted his lashes, he searched Gwaine’s eyes before saying, “Agravaine kidnapped my father. The ransom he demanded was Kilgarrah.”

The confession stunned Gwaine into taking a step back. Of all the possibilities he’d considered, that one had never even entered the running. Uther Pendragon should’ve been untouchable. He headed the best trained, most powerful group of men and women in the country. He had more money than Croesus, better preservation instincts than anyone Gwaine had ever met, and a paranoid streak just wide enough to keep them finely tuned.

“How?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Briefly, he explained how Uther had missed a family function, then how Arthur had been grabbed while waiting for a pretty blue-eyed twink at some bar in Soho. Gwaine flashed on how hot Arthur would be splitting open some anonymous boy in a public toilet, only to chide himself a moment later for completely missing the point of Arthur’s story. “It was supposed to be an easy escape,” Arthur finished. “Get him out, get him back to London, get Father home safe and sound.”

“What was the plan on getting him back to the city?”

“I’ve got a retrieval team waiting to hear from me about a rendezvous point.” Arthur toyed with the fastening of a pocket on the side of his right thigh. Its smooth bulge meant the pocket housed his phone. “I only have thirteen hours left on Agravaine’s deadline. Something tells me it took you longer than that to find Kilgarrah the first time.”

It had, but Arthur didn’t need to hear even more bad news. He looked broken, a shell of the vital man Gwaine had admired over the years. Uther Pendragon certainly wasn’t one of Gwaine’s favorite people, especially after what had happened with Percival, but Arthur was, and while Gwaine didn’t understand his devotion to his father, he respected the depths those emotions ran.

“How firm is that deadline?” he said.

Arthur frowned. “He’s the one with all the power. Why wouldn’t it be firm?”

“You don’t think if it takes us a little longer than that to bring Kilgarrah in, he might give you some leeway?”

His sharp intake of breath was audible. “Us?”

“Sure, why not?” He grinned, more for Arthur’s sake than his own. “You’ve been trying for years to get me in your pocket. You’re really going to balk right when you need me the most?”

“But…” Arthur was so flustered, he hadn’t even noticed Gwaine’s entendre. “I thought you never forgave him for what happened with Percival.”

The pang he felt at Percival’s name was as sharp as ever, but the genuine confusion in Arthur’s face soothed its ragged edge. “I haven’t,” Gwaine said. “But I’m not doing this for Uther.”


	3. Chapter 3

His shoulder throbbed, and his stomach roiled with anxiety, but in that moment, Arthur wanted to launch himself at Gwaine and cling to him in gratitude like a little boy who’d just discovered Santa actually was real. Agravaine had warned him about keeping it to himself, threatening to harm Uther if word got out. Nobody at CBI knew Uther was even missing. While Arthur had been squirreled away, Uther’s disappearance had been dismissed as an unexpected business trip. Agravaine had even managed to abscond one of Uther’s planes to help fortify the lie.

Telling Gwaine what had happened had been a risk. A big one.

But in those moments following Kilgarrah’s escape, Arthur had reached one inescapable conclusion. He was screwed. Kilgarrah was unstoppable. The only reason Arthur had even come close to catching him this time was because Agravaine had spoon-fed him the information about the transport. Even if he’d known who his target was beforehand, he might not have been able to take him in. Gwaine had needed a top of the line train with all the bells and whistles to keep Kilgarrah contained. Arthur and his retrieval team had no chance.

The best he’d hoped for in accepting Gwaine’s first aid offer was some answers on how he’d managed to finally capture Kilgarrah. If Kilgarrah had some heretofore unknown weakness, Arthur wanted to know about it, to best exploit his odds.

Gwaine throwing in with him, though? That was unheard of. Especially since Gwaine cited Arthur as the reason he was willing to do so.

“I can’t pay you,” Arthur said. He had to give Gwaine the out, though it made him sick to toss out help when he needed it the most. “And I’m sure your current employers will probably change their mind about paying you, too, once they find out Kilgarrah’s gone.”

The corners of Gwaine’s eyes crinkled as his smile widened. “If I was interested in a CBI paycheck, I would’ve picked an easier case to start with.”

“What about Percival?” He hated bringing him up again, but it had to be done. “What about your revenge?”

The flirtatious mood faded. “The only thing I need is to see Kilgarrah pay for everything he’s done. How that happens doesn’t matter.”

Except he would be doing it to help the one man who might’ve been able to save Percival in the first place. Arthur wasn’t so sure he would’ve been as generous if their positions were reversed.

Gwaine shook his head. “Of course, you would,” he said softly, as if Arthur had uttered his declaration aloud. 

The air between them charged, heavy with memories, thick with unrequited desires. Arthur felt mired in them, incapable of breaking free, but more telling, unwilling to try. Gwaine was refusing the out he extended, instead throwing himself in even deeper with his careful observations. Arthur would likely spend the rest of his life owing Gwaine for this sacrifice, but it was a price he was more than happy to pay.

Gwaine shattered the spell by waggling his fingers toward Arthur’s leg. “Better ring your retrieval team,” he said.

Arthur blinked as the order sank in. “Why?”

With a wink, Gwaine sauntered toward the end of the car. “Because when I tell my bosses Kilgarrah’s escaped, we’re both going to need a ride.”

* * *

None of his team seemed surprised when Arthur showed up with Gwaine. Even better, Gwaine chose that time to keep his mouth shut, no banter, no joking, nothing that might hint at what they were involved in. He simply leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and appeared to sleep all the way to London.

Less than twelve hours remained when the van pulled into CBI’s underground garage. Arthur dismissed his men with half an eye on his watch.

“You have network access here, or is Agravaine monitoring that?” Gwaine startled him by asking.

“I’d say yes, but it might be safer to assume not. Why?”

Gwaine reached into the messenger bag he’d brought with him from the train. A moment later, metal gleamed in the dim light where it flipped toward Arthur. Arthur snatched it out of the air on instinct.

“I can’t say for sure Kilgarrah’s body temp hasn’t fried the tracking chip I implanted, but it’s as good a place as any to start,” Gwaine said.

Arthur ran his thumb along the cool edge of the USB drive, hope surging through his veins again. “I could kiss you right now.”

“Promises, promises.” But Gwaine’s smile said it all.

“My flat is probably compromised, too,” Arthur said. “What we need is a public network.”

“I can get us into any one we want. My laptop is secure, so all it’ll take is someplace Agravaine won’t think to look.”

That eliminated anything CBI-related. “I can get us to Canary Wharf in ten minutes.” Which meant dozens of financial institutions and networks galore. “Are you certain you can get us in?”

Gwaine cocked a brow. “Can’t you?”

“Tech’s not exactly my strong suit. Consider yourself lucky I didn’t blow up the train when I disabled the power.”

“Then I guess it’s an even better idea that I tagged along for the ride.”

As Gwaine climbed over the seat to join him in the front, Arthur got a good view of his partner before he settled back. While Gwaine had been off updating his employers about Kilgarrah’s status, he’d also used that time to clean up, donning a fresh shirt and jeans that looked like he’d stepped off the pages of an Armani ad. Nobody Arthur knew wore clothes like Gwaine. For him, they were an attitude, not apparel. 

Right now, that attitude screamed, “Fuck me if you dare.”

If they didn’t face a deadline, Arthur just might’ve taken him up on it. Gwaine’s flirting certainly made him seem amenable to the idea of a hook-up, and Arthur could finally satisfy his curiosity about how good Gwaine would be in bed. He could still feel the calluses of Gwaine’s fingertips brushing over his skin as he’d stitched Arthur up, whispers of what might be under other circumstances.

It was a damn shame this was what had finally caused their paths to cross again.

“So who other than you was mad enough to go after Kilgarrah this time?” Arthur asked, once they were on the road.

“A Scottish consortium,” came the reply. “Apparently, he cost them billions last year in some arsons on the continent.”

“You don’t know the particulars?”

Gwaine shrugged. “Didn’t care enough to ask. They wanted to pay me a bomb to catch and escort him to Edinburgh, so I let them have their secrets.” He half-turned, cocking his leg up to better face Arthur. “My turn. What in hell’s name could Agravaine want from Kilgarrah badly enough to grab dear old dad just to get him?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted.

“No offense, mate, but there seems to be a lot about this whole set-up you’re in the dark about.”

There was, but knowing that didn’t necessarily make Arthur feel any better about it. “Agravaine’s financial interests are all small change. Old money that’s more about the name than the account figures. He’s never attempted to capitalize on that.” Even when he pursued Morgana, Agravaine had steered clear of tapping into her assets. “I can’t even say for sure what the bad blood is between him and Father.”

“Kilgarrah doesn’t give two figs about money, either, though. His work is always personal.”

“Have you ever heard anything that might hint they know each other?”

“No. You?”

Arthur shook his head. “Maybe the link is to the consortium, then. That’s the only way he could’ve had the information on the delivery. He even had specs on the train.”

In the streetlights flickering in through the windows, Gwaine’s dark eyes gleamed. “They won’t be glad to hear they’ve got a leak.”

“Did you tell them how Kilgarrah got out?”

“Worried you’ll be next on their list?”

“Just need to know if I’m adding another name to the growing group of people I’ve brassed off.”

“You’re not. I told them Kilgarrah smuggled a disruptor past me that shorted out the car.”

Arthur glanced at Gwaine in surprise. “That puts the blame all on you.”

“So?”

“What do you mean, so?” Gwaine didn’t have an organization to back him up. He lived and died by his reputation. Mistakes would cost him, even if they weren’t his. “Have you gone completely around the bend?”

“I’ll survive one disgruntled employer,” Gwaine said. “Besides, it would look a lot worse if I told them that not only did I lose their prey, but I allowed an unknown agent to disable all my defenses and put me in a killshot while said prey escaped.”

“I was never going to kill you.”

“But you did have the means and opportunity.”

“It’s true, then. You have gone utterly mad.”

“Make it up to me when this is all over.”

Arthur snorted. “I have a feeling I’ll be making this up to you for years to come.”

Gwaine’s grin was this side of wicked. “And that would be another reason why I never mentioned you were there.”

Though Arthur hated having unpaid debts hanging over his head, owing Gwaine wasn’t the worst that could happen to him. One look at Gwaine, however, and he wasn’t entirely sure these would get paid off in the field.

“What’ve you been doing this past year?” he asked. _Since Percival died_ was left unsaid.

“Same as you, from the sound of it. A little bit of work, a lot of fun, a little bit more work to pay for the fun…”

Arthur laughed. “Mine tends to go the opposite way.”

“Only because you let it.” Gwaine paused. “You ever think about quitting? Just chucking it all and seeing where the wind took you.”

Though his tone hadn’t changed, that thread of solemnity was back. Remnants of his grief manifested as an unwanted maturity, if Arthur had it pegged right. “Not really,” he said, though he knew that wasn’t what Gwaine really wanted to hear. “Most of the time, I rather like my life.”

“You’ve never settled down.”

“Neither have you.”

“Ah, but that’s not my style. You, you’re the epitome of everything we’ve vowed to protect. All you’re missing is the actual ball and chains.”

Arthur cut him a hard look. “You know I’m never getting married. I wouldn’t do that to a girl, no matter what Father might say he wants.”

“This is a new age, my friend. Since when does that mean you can’t find Mr. Right? One of those twinks you find in Soho just might be the one.”

“Until they find out what I do for a living.” He’d tried dating before, but it always ended the same way. A couple dinners in, he got called away on assignment, he had to lie about what was going on, and the potential boyfriend either saw straight through it and took it personally, or got tired of always being on the sidelines when it came to his work. However it played out, Arthur still ended up alone.

“Then that’s their loss.”

Canary Wharf loomed ahead, all steel and glass carving out the night sky. Its resurrection in recent years had been an economic boon for the city, though the tech that ran rampant amongst its skyscrapers was beginning to create nightmares for those like Arthur whose job it was to rein in those with dangerous ideals. Part of the reason he pushed himself to get better with the tech—though not always succeeding—was because the up and coming hackers CBI hired were making Arthur obsolete. Change with the times or get out of the game, a lesson he learned from watching Uther struggle to stay relevant.

Was that how Agravaine had managed to kidnap Uther? By anticipating his antiquated ways? Or was Uther slipping so much he’d become a liability rather than an asset?

His head hurt thinking about all of it. 

“You need to take a break when this is over,” Gwaine said.

Arthur slowed to turn onto a narrow side street where he could pull over in the shadows and away from security cameras. “I just got back from holiday.”

“No, I mean a proper break. Get out there and see how the other half lives for a while.” He twisted around and reached for his messenger bag. “Who knows? You might discover you actually like it.”

The time for further conversation on the matter was done. As Gwaine booted up his machine, Arthur rolled the drive along his knuckles and tried not to think beyond the next few hours.

Gwaine’s fingers flew across the keyboard, almost hypnotic in their unexpected grace. His expertise shouldn’t have been such a surprise. To those who knew him, Gwaine was a study in contradictions. It was only the world that believed the ne’er-do-well facade he presented was as deep as it went. The fact that he’d fallen into the same trap annoyed Arthur, so he avoided commentary that would diminish what little respect Gwaine might have for him already.

“Idiots,” Gwaine muttered, his tempo unfailing.

Now that, he could respond to. “Already in?”

“In, put up my feet, and have the kettle already on.” He plucked the USB away from Arthur. “I could steal half their assets if I’d a mind to.”

“It might make up for what you lost from the Scots,” Arthur joked.

Gwaine’s head shot up. “Am I hearing things? Did the venerable Arthur Pendragon just suggest I take something that didn’t belong to me?”

“We must both be hearing things. Because I could’ve sworn you just used ‘venerable’ without having to look it up first.”

“I can be taught, you know.” He resumed his concentration on the laptop, though his lips remained quirked in amusement. “I simply prefer to ignore those lessons most of the time.”

Another exaggeration, but this was familiar territory, comforting enough to help Arthur relax. The lulling clip of the keyboard lasted for only a moment.

“Well, bugger me,” Gwaine said.

Stiffening, Arthur leaned over to see what transfixed Gwaine. In the movies, a tracking program would have a map with a moving red dot to show where the target was. Arthur knew that was rubbish, but the column of shifting numbers wasn’t what he expected, either.

“Is it broken?” he asked.

“No, it’s working perfectly. Provided he didn’t dig it out and throw it into the Thames, I know exactly where he is.”

His heart sped up. “How? Where?”

Gwaine tapped the bottom number. “These are coordinates. Kilgarrah’s in London.”

The news was better than he could’ve imagined. He wouldn’t have to pull strings to fly anywhere, he wouldn’t waste hours from traveling, and he could tap into his own resources without having to rely completely on Gwaine. Arthur would’ve been grinning like a loon if Gwaine didn’t look so concerned about the revelation.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

“He’s in London,” Gwaine repeated. When he lifted his gaze, it bored into Arthur. “Why?”

“Because it was close? He could’ve been hurt when he jumped from the train. He’s probably got contacts here who can help him.”

“Then how did he beat us here?”

The inquiry put an immediate dampener on Arthur’s elation. Kilgarrah’s mutations made him dangerous, but they had limitations. He was swift on foot, often giving the illusion of flying across the earth’s surface, but his speed was neither sustainable nor a match to a moving vehicle on an empty motorway. The longest he’d been clocked at his highest performance was forty-two minutes, a chase several years earlier that he’d won only because he reached a helipad with a waiting ride. Arthur had planned for his return. By all rights, Kilgarrah should’ve been stuck out in the country still. At the very most, the city’s outskirts.

“Where exactly is that?”

Gwaine clicked on a small box to the left of the coordinates. “Pymmes Park.”

So not only had he made it to the city, he’d made it all the way across and north to Enfield. “Maybe he stole a car.” But he knew as soon as he uttered the words, it wasn’t likely. There had been little traffic until they got closer to the city, and the odds were too slim Kilgarrah would head to a heavily populated area without a distinct reason. “He had help. Someone with transportation waiting for him.”

Gwaine uttered the words as Arthur came to the same conclusion. “Only one person knew he was both on the train and that he would be freed tonight.”

The one man who had orchestrated this from the start.

Agravaine.


	4. Chapter 4

Gwaine didn’t like the look on Arthur’s face when he made the connection. Frustration mingled with shocked anger, but it was the flash of fear behind his eyes that bothered Gwaine the most. He might have his own father issues, and Uther certainly didn’t rate a mention on his Christmas card list, but this wasn’t about Gwaine. This was about Arthur and the father he’d always admired, the one he constantly strove to impress, the one he loved. Suspecting he’d been a pawn from the start, that the entire situation had never once been in his control, would destroy Arthur if he wasn’t careful. His entire existence was regimented, from the way he conducted his lack of a personal life to how much he threw himself into his work.

Through it all, he had the unerring ability to put his faith in people, whether they deserved it or not. Some might deem it a fatal flaw. What good was an agent if he trusted the wrong person? Gwaine had derided it more than once, but then again, he considered trust too valuable to offer to many.

But beneath his mocking lurked respect, and even deeper than that was a wistful envy. It was one of the many qualities that attracted people to Arthur, Gwaine included. Unfortunately, it came with a price. Trusting the wrong person, especially someone like Agravaine, could shatter everything.

“You said the exchange was going to be at noon,” Gwaine said, attempting to refocus Arthur on the problem at hand and not the potential disaster it might turn out to be. “Where?”

Arthur scrubbed his hand over his head in a familiar gesture. His stooped posture and mussed hair added to the air of hopelessness that now hung around him. “He gave me a number to ring him on at ten so I could find out.”

“If you have his number, we can track where he is with his phone.”

Arthur glared up at him through his lashes. “That was the first thing I did when I got dropped at the office to get ready for the train. It’s a throwaway, and the last time it registered was at the shop where he bought it yesterday. Completely useless.”

So calling early was out of the question. Agravaine would likely keep it off until the designated time. “All right. What about Kilgarrah, then?”

“What about him?”

“If we recapture him, we’re back in the game.”

“You mean, the game where my father might already be dead? The one where I probably wasn’t meant to walk away from that train alive? That game?”

Gwaine tried not to wince. He’d hoped Arthur hadn’t come to that realization yet. “But you did walk away,” he said with as much conviction as he could muster. “Better yet, you came away stronger.”

“And how, pray tell, can you say that when just two hours ago you were sewing me back together?”

Gwaine smiled. “Because now you’ve got me.”

Arthur stared at him for a moment, then gave a short bark of laughter, just as Gwaine had meant to evoke. “Catching Kilgarrah is the answer anyway,” he said, his voice clearer than before. “Agravaine wanted him free for a reason. I think we have to follow him.”

It was sound logic and stood more hope of succeeding than their other suggestions. Gwaine only had one problem with it. “How do you know Kilgarrah is going to meet up with Agravaine? He could be here for other reasons. Just because Agravaine is behind the escape doesn’t mean they’ll have a face-to-face.”

Arthur’s mouth thinned, his features hardening into a battle-ready mask. “Who does Kilgarrah hate more than anyone else in this world?”

The blood drained from Gwaine’s face. It was so obvious. Why hadn’t he seen that already? Everything Kilgarrah was today went back to a single incident, the disastrous decision of a newly appointed CBI head to explore how they could enhance their agents’ abilities. His throat was tight as he answered, “Uther Pendragon.” 

“Killing me as he escaped was probably just a bonus. I think Agravaine set all of this up to hand Father over to him on a silver platter.”

The pieces fit. Each horrible, twisted, painful piece. “Know what else that means?”

“What?”

Gwaine swallowed the bile that threatened to choke him. “They had to arrange it ahead of time for it to work. Which means Kilgarrah _let_ himself get captured.” And his attempts to avenge Percival’s unnecessary death had been a complete waste of time. He turned back to the computer because it was easier than watching Arthur’s sudden pity. “The bastard’s not moving. My guess is that he’s planning on spending the night in the park.” Even when he had every amenity available to him, Kilgarrah turned to nature if he had any choice on the matter. “It’ll be deserted until dawn. You have time to rest if you want.”

“I’m not resting until I’ve got Father back where he belongs.”

“What else can you do if your plan is to track Kilgarrah and he’s decided to climb a tree for the night?”

Arthur pulled out his phone. “I can find the link between Agravaine and Kilgarrah. It might give us an edge.”

While Arthur rang his contacts, Gwaine took advantage of the network to float some queries out to his various contacts, asking the same questions Arthur posed to everyone he managed to rouse. His best, and pretty much only, source turned out to be the woman who’d hooked him up with the Scots in the first place. He got her on a private chat channel for a few minutes while the man she was spending the night with was in the shower.

_Gwaine: Sorry the boytoy’s so forgettable you have to work to get excited._

_Mithian: Hardly. He just appreciates how much I hate getting oil on my nice sheets._

_Gwaine: That’s what the plastic matting is for, luv._

_Mithian: Ever the romantic, you are. What can I do for you?_

Briefly, he gave her the story he’d fed the consortium. She’d find out about the escape soon enough anyway.

_Mithian: That’s a bit of bad luck._

_Gwaine: I think he had help. Ever hear of a bloke named Agravaine?_

_Mithian: I doubt he’s the one._

_Gwaine: Why?_

_Mithian: Because he’s a silent partner in Ramsay Electric._

The company was one of the twelve comprising the consortium. That explained his connection to the Scots. Because Arthur was in the middle of the call, Gwaine tapped on his screen to point it out.

_Scots?_ Arthur mouthed silently.

Gwaine nodded.

Arthur gave him a thumbs up in gratitude and went back to his call.

By the time Gwaine disconnected, he knew that Agravaine had been advised on the hunt for Kilgarrah, a specific interested party as Hugh Ramsay had been one of those most directly affected by Kilgarrah’s arsons. It would’ve been child’s play getting the information he needed to feed Arthur. None of it answered why he was aiding the man who’d been responsible for such a drastic financial hit, though.

At his side, Arthur growled in frustration as he disconnected. “It’s not enough. The man’s an enigma.”

“Not entirely.” He filled in the few details he could, ending with, “But that’s me tapped out. I just wish I understood why he’d want to help someone who almost ruined him.”

“I only have one more person I can think to ask.” Arthur took a deep breath. “Wish me luck.”

Rather than lift his phone to his ear, Arthur selected someone from his contact list and put the call on speaker. It was on the fourth ring, about to tip over into voicemail, when a husky female voice answered.

“Where are you that you’ve forgotten it’s the middle of the night in England right now?” she complained.

“London, actually. I’m sorry, Morgana. I wouldn’t have rung at this hour if it wasn’t important.”

Gwaine cocked a brow at Arthur in silent query. For siblings, Morgana and Arthur weren’t especially close now that they were adults. Uther had come between them. Though she would have different insight into Agravaine, she wouldn’t necessarily be eager to help if she knew what it was about, and as far as Gwaine could tell, Arthur wouldn’t be able to avoid sharing at least some of the story.

“Are you hurt?”

Arthur might have worried about her reaction, but for now, Morgana sounded genuinely concerned. “Nothing serious,” he said. “But the assignment I’m on right now—”

“Don’t.”

“Morgana, please—”

“I don’t want to know about any of your spy games. You know that.”

“Which is why I tried not to ring you at all. I don’t have a choice.”

“I do.”

“You haven’t even heard what I’m asking.”

“Does it help CBI?”

Arthur grimaced. He clearly didn’t want to answer the question. The man hated to lie unless it was absolutely necessary. Gwaine wasn’t certain this would qualify.

So he replied instead.

“Morgana? It’s Gwaine. Listen—”

“You have me on speaker?” she said sharply.

“Only because I wanted to hear your lovely voice,” Gwaine said, ignoring Arthur’s hard stare. “Arthur’s actually helping me out of a tight spot. I asked him to ring you because I’m hoping you’ll help ensure I get my bounty.”

“And why would I do something like that? If you’ve mucked up your job, you probably deserve to get stiffed.”

“If only it was as pleasurable as you make it sound.” 

“This wasn’t Gwaine’s fault,” Arthur interjected. “It was—”

“An old friend of yours, actually.” To Arthur, Gwaine made a cutting motion across his throat, telling him to back off. “He helped my prisoner escape tonight, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.”

“Thinking has never been your strong suit, Gwaine.” Though her words remained caustic, her tone was less so, traces of amusement bleeding through. “Who is it you think I know?”

“Agravaine.”

The line remained silent.

“Morgana? Did we lose you?”

“I only wish you had.” She sighed. “You said he helped someone escape? Who was it this time?”

_This time._ That never boded well. “A very dangerous man named Kilgarrah. And for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.”

“Kilgarrah? Wasn’t that the agent Father nearly killed doing all that testing?”

“That’s the one. Did Agravaine know him?”

“Well, of course, he did. He’s the one who convinced him to accept Father’s job offer.”

Their gazes met. That was the link they’d been looking for. “I don’t remember that,” Arthur said.

“You wouldn’t,” Morgana replied. “We were both practically babies when it all happened, and it’s hardly anything that would be common knowledge.”

“Then how do you know?”

He could hear her smile. “Because Agravaine thought telling me all his dark secrets was the best way to get me into bed.”

Gwaine snorted. “Well, _I_ could’ve told him that wouldn’t work, and I don’t even bat for his team.”

“Something I still consider a grand waste,” Morgana said. “Is that it? Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Just one more question,” Arthur said. “If you were Agravaine, and you wanted to hide someone you didn’t want anybody to find, where would you do it?”

Gwaine held his breath. Arthur was referring to Uther, but Morgana would assume he meant Kilgarrah. It was the only way she’d ever give him a straight answer.

“Agravaine trusts very few people,” she said. “And Kilgarrah is personal. I’d think he’d keep him somewhere he could control. The flat in Croydon, maybe. Or he has offices in Enfield, or there’s storage units out towards Heathrow. Those could be good. If he wanted to get Kilgarrah out of the country, he might want him near the airport.”

The logic was more than sound, her information helpful for reasons she wouldn’t understand. A look of triumph appeared in Arthur’s eyes as he thanked her and sent her off to bed.

“You know he’s not keeping him by the airport, don’t you?” Gwaine prompted.

“Of course. Just like I know we were wrong about Kilgarrah buckling in for the night.” A new energy infused Arthur, his movements swift and clean as his fingers flew over the GPS, his shoulders straighter than before. “Everything about this is personal for Agravaine. I don’t think he cares about the money Kilgarrah cost him last year at all. It’s never been his end game before, so why should it now? But when he found out the Scots hired you to go after Kilgarrah, he saw it as his chance to make amends. He could make it up to Kilgarrah and get rid of Father, all at the same time.”

“He’s efficient, I’ll give him that.” He tabbed back to Kilgarrah’s tracker, checking to see if he’d moved. “Kilgarrah’s still there.”

“Too bad we don’t have a tracker on Agravaine to see how close he is.”

Gwaine laughed. “You really think that’s where it’s going to happen?”

Starting the van again, Arthur eased away from the curb. “One way or another, Kilgarrah is going to be face to face with my father. It doesn’t matter if it happens at the park or somewhere else, just that I’m there to stop it. And sticking to Kilgarrah will guarantee that happens.” He shot Gwaine a crooked smile. “You just might get your paycheck, after all.”

The money would be nice, but at this point, Gwaine just wanted to see this night done. They all needed closure, in one way or another. 

It was the only way they could all move on.


	5. Chapter 5

The van jostled as Gwaine moved around in the back. He whistled under his breath as he worked, the occasional tap at his keyboard breaking up the sounds of weapons getting checked, the zip of a coat. Arthur rarely worked with partners—he preferred a whole team if the situation demanded more than just him—but Gwaine’s presence was oddly calming. It was more than how much he’d helped already tonight, far more than Arthur could’ve ever anticipated. It was the certainty that in spite of Gwaine’s feelings about Uther or Kilgarrah, he would do everything he could to get Arthur the outcome he wanted.

Plus, he smelled bloody amazing.

“Did you find the med kit yet?” Arthur called back.

“Was right where you said it would be.” Gwaine poked his head between the seats to meet Arthur’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “You want it now?”

“The sooner, the better. It only lasts four hours.”

“What if we need more time than that?”

Arthur smiled. “You must be getting slow in your old age.”

Gwaine matched his smile with one of his own. “Remind me to prove to you after this is all done how wrong you are.”

“Just give me the shot.”

The shot was actually a specialized nerve block CBI scientists had developed for emergency triage in the fields. It bought agents an extra four hours to battle through pain without having to get injected into the spine to be effective. Arthur didn’t want his injured shoulder to hold him back when the confrontation came. They had no idea how many men Agravaine might have with him, not to mention Kilgarrah was his own private army.

Four hours would decide it, one way or another.

The GPS indicated Pymmes Park was just ahead, so Arthur pulled onto a side road and parked behind a block of flats that had seen far better days. Gwaine was ready for him in the back, the hypo delicately balanced in his gloved hand.

“Don’t need to be so cagey about finding reasons to take your shirt off for me, you know,” Gwaine said.

“And here I thought I was being clever.”

They both chuckled as Arthur opened the collar and slipped the shirt down far enough to bare his shoulder. The stitches twinged every time he moved, but almost as soon as the needle pricked his skin, heat crawled through the muscle, soothing over the pain.

Gwaine poked at his shoulder blade. “How’s that feel?”

He felt nothing but the pressure against the bone. Arthur yanked his shirt back up. “Like it’s time to gear up and find Kilgarrah.”

The night smelled of diesel and beer, but the insipid streetlights did their job in clearing Arthur and Gwaine’s path toward the park. Nobody else roamed the walks. Smart residents were locked away in their homes until the sun came out and made their neighborhood safe again. Though Arthur caught distant voices on the slight breeze, they came from behind them, not the vicinity of the park ahead of them. It could work to their advantage, though. Kilgarrah’s enhanced senses were sight and smell. His hearing was only as good as an average man’s. He wouldn’t necessarily hear them over the normal sounds of the area.

In regards to the senses they _did_ have to worry about, Gwaine had a pheromone mask he’d insisted they douse themselves with before getting out of the van, which left only sight as a serious contender. Depending on where Kilgarrah was, they could probably stay to the shadows and keep lower to the ground until they were within sighting range.

Though he didn’t like it, they split up at the entrance. The park was too large for them to risk missing either Kilgarrah or Agravaine, but at least Gwaine hadn’t argued about the relays that would keep them in contact. Once Gwaine was out of sight, Arthur triggered his, keeping his eyes on the path he flanked.

“Miss me yet?” he murmured.

“Always,” came the quick reply.

“He’s not going to want an audience.”

“I know.”

“Which means—”

“Relax, Arthur. I won’t muck this up.”

Arthur knew that, but reiterating their plans made him feel more in control. The park had a wide variety of spaces, from the playground to the pitch to the more densely populated park depot and office area. Since Uther would not be a willing participant to the exchange, Agravaine had to either keep the meeting somewhere near the perimeter to cut down on how far he forced Uther to walk or place it near an entrance where a body could be carried in. Arthur hoped for the former. That put Uther conscious and mobile.

Most importantly, it placed him as still alive.

Slowly, he scanned his gaze left and right, in search of heat signatures that might betray their targets’ presence. Kilgarrah would be harder to find this way—his mutations lowered his body temperature as well—but Agravaine and any men he might bring with him would be easy to spot. Blurs from nearby housing created dull glows he had to filter out, and the flicker of animals amongst the trees created even more visual noise. 

A slash of heat stopped him in his tracks. It pressed close to a tree trunk on the opposite side of the wide path, its upper half wavering. Arthur switched over to regular night vision for more detail, then relaxed. Just a pair of slim teenagers, standing close as they shared hits off whatever they were smoking.

“Any luck yet?” he said as he resumed his sweep.

“Nothing. I can’t even—”

When Gwaine cut off, Arthur stiffened, senses going on high alert again. He waited for more, but when it didn’t come… “What’ve you got?”

“Can’t talk,” Gwaine whispered.

Arthur whipped around to head in the direction Gwaine had taken. “I’m on my way.”

He passed the teenagers at a much faster clip, listening intently to what might be happening on Gwaine’s end though it wouldn’t pick up much beyond a meter circle around him. Gwaine’s steady breathing was reassuring, as was the distinct snap of his gun being drawn. He was prepared for whatever he thought he saw, at least. Arthur kept his fingers crossed it was Kilgarrah. Keeping an eye on him rather than getting surprised would make the rest of it simpler.

A branch snapped off to his left.

Arthur zeroed in on the direction automatically. It came from the other side of the wide path, near one of the entrances. Its source flared in three bright signatures, their shapes sending his pulse skittering in anticipation, and he molded to a tree while he flipped over to night vision to get the details.

Agravaine led the way, his features carved into a scowl. Behind him, with his hands cuffed at the small of his back, was Uther, with a third man trailing him, a gun poised ready in his grip.

Uther’s stance was mostly straight, his gait even. No injuries then, which sent a tide of relief washing over Arthur. They’d taped his mouth shut, and as their angle shifted away from Arthur, he saw they’d bound Uther’s arms at the elbows, too, bowing his back in what had to be a painful position to hold for that long.

More than anything, he wanted to put a bullet between Agravaine’s eyes and put an end to it, here and now. It would be easy, a single shot. Well-deserved after what he’d done.

But he stayed that impulse. His primary target had to be the bodyguard so he’d have those seconds before Agravaine reacted. With Uther incapacitated, Arthur had to be close enough to pull him out of the way of anything Agravaine might try to do.

Using the trees as cover, he wound his way closer, paralleling their journey along the path. When he saw Agravaine was leading them past the playgrounds, he silently cursed and waited until he could safely cross to the other side of the cement where his cover continued and he wouldn’t have to worry about stepping too loudly over dry tree bark. Time stretched painfully, the skin on his nape crawling as the trio grew less distinct.

As he took the first step to cross, however, a gunshot split the night. A moment later, a blaze of fire sliced upward through the trees ahead of Agravaine and the others.

Arthur’s ear rang from the echo effect from hearing it both live and through the transmitter. “Gwaine,” he hissed, dashing across the path. He didn’t have to worry about being spotted. Agravaine had jerked to a stop, motioning for his guard to halt as well. All eyes were on the leaves that now burned orange against the sky.

“Not a good time for chitchat, mate.”

Though Gwaine’s voice was tight, at least he’d answered. “Agravaine’s here with Father and a guard. Roughly thirty meters northeast of what I’m guessing is Kilgarrah’s way of saying hello.”

“Armed?”

“The guard is. I can’t tell with Agravaine. Father’s cuffed and gagged.”

“You got ‘em?”

“Yeah.”

Gwaine’s lack of banter testified how serious his situation was. His attention was elsewhere.

A low boom set off a car alarm not too far away.

Agravaine whipped around to stare at the street. “Take him back to the car,” he barked at the guard. “Put him in the boot, and be ready to leave if I give the word.”

As the guard grabbed Uther’s cuffs, Uther slammed his head backward, driving his skull against the man’s nose. The guard let go and stumbled, his hand going to his face, but as Uther twisted to run into the darkness, Agravaine was there, blocking his path, a gun Arthur hadn’t seen him pull out only inches from Uther’s chest.

“Do you ever think beyond the moment?” Agravaine complained. “Seriously, Uther, how far did you actually think you were going to get?”

Arthur darted to the next tree. The noise was going to attract police very soon, a fact Agravaine had already determined. His window was rapidly closing. 

“I should shoot you now and be done with it,” Agravaine was saying. “Kilgarrah will just have to be satisfied with killing one Pendragon tonight.”

The set of Uther’s shoulders straightened. Though Arthur couldn’t see his face, he would wager this was the first time he’d either heard mention of Kilgarrah or Arthur’s presumed death. His assumptions about Agravaine’s intentions had been correct, though. He thought Arthur had been eliminated as a threat.

Arthur’s smile was grim. It was going to be his pleasure to show Agravaine how wrong he was.

“What do you want me to do, sir?” the guard asked.

Agravaine held the gun up for a moment longer, then took a step back. “Take him to the car like I said and wait.”

The guard came around to Uther’s front, beyond his reach. “You heard the man. Turn around and start walking.”

Now that he’d given his order, Agravaine had already started moving toward Kilgarrah’s fight. Arthur split his attention between the two as he murmured, “Agravaine’s on the move again. I’m getting the guard first, but I’ll do what I can to intercept Agravaine before you have to worry about him.”

Gwaine snorted. “I’m currently up a tree. If he finds me, I’ll deserve whatever he does.”

Arthur had a feeling _up a tree_ wasn’t a euphemism. “Good luck.”

When no response came, he looked back to the guard and Uther. They approached the tree Arthur hid behind with Uther in the lead. The guard’s nose was bleeding, but it wasn’t distracting him from his job. He kept his gaze locked on his assignment.

Arthur holstered his gun and pulled out the small disc he was going to need. With his back to the tree, he waited for Uther to pass first. Timing was critical. He couldn’t give the guard a chance to call out.

He didn’t. Just as the muzzle of the gun passed his hiding place, Arthur stepped out and pressed the stun gun into the man’s side.

His moves were quick and efficient, honed from experience. As the guard went limp, Arthur caught his weight with his body, using his free hand to twist the gun out of his grip. Though the guard’s jacket muffled the sound of the charge, Uther whirled around, his eyes widening when he spotted Arthur.

Arthur pointed to the grass but didn’t wait for Uther to get off the path before he dragged the guard out of sight. Dropping the man against the base of the tree, he glanced around it in hopes he’d still be able to see Agravaine in the distance. He couldn’t.

Uther was trying to talk to him through the tape. Arthur caught his father’s arm and guided him to a different tree, leaning in so he wouldn’t be overheard by anyone but Gwaine. “Stay down, and stay quiet. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Uther frowned and shook his head. When he took a step as if to follow Arthur, Arthur put his hand to Uther’s chest and stopped him. “I don’t have time to argue about this. Sit down, or so help me, Father, I’ll use my spare stun on you.”

The warning sank in like he hoped. Though Uther looked furious, he retreated to the tree.

Arthur took off at a dead run after Agravaine. Uther would make him pay for this later, but all that mattered was that he’d be alive to do so.

The tree was still on fire, but as Arthur rounded the bend, he could see that it was the only one surrounding the lake that seemed to be burning. Agravaine stood on the path ahead, half-crouched as he looked around. In search of Kilgarrah, no doubt. 

The urge to shoot Agravaine returned. It would solve so much—no more threats to Uther, less red tape to weed through. But as much as Arthur wanted him out of their lives, he couldn’t do it. He had the upper ground here. More importantly, he needed to show Kilgarrah that at least one Pendragon wasn’t the enemy he thought they were.

Agravaine never knew he was present until Arthur pressed his gun to the back of his head.

“Drop your weapon,” Arthur said. When Agravaine began to turn to look over his shoulder, Arthur jabbed the muzzle harder against his skull. “Don’t give me an excuse to kill you before the police get here.”

Agravaine froze. “Kill me, and you’ll never see your father again.”

“Nice try. Except for the fact that my father is waiting for me back where you left him. By the way, your guard will be out of it for at least another hour, so don’t think you can yell for him to help.”

The corner of Agravaine’s mouth lifted. “Morgana always told me you were too good for CBI. Now I see I should have believed her.”

“Then do as you’re told and put the gun on the ground.”

Slowly, Agravaine obeyed. Arthur crouched at the same tempo, keeping his weapon steady, and picked up Agravaine’s as soon as he set it down.

“All’s clear on my end,” he said for Gwaine’s benefit.

Though he didn’t move, Agravaine’s gaze jumped around. “Who’re you talking to?”

The lake erupted, water spraying into the trees. Arthur’s gun jerked in surprise, but when Agravaine tried to snatch it away, Arthur clubbed him against the temple with the grip. Agravaine slumped unconscious to the grass.

“All right, _now_ it’s all clear,” he muttered.

Swinging his gun around, he tried to spot Kilgarrah along the shore, but the burning branches cast orange flickers atop the lake and across the grass which wreaked havoc with his heat sensors. Everything blurred, and he swore as he shoved the visor up and out of his way.

“Don’t worry,” Gwaine said in his ear. “I’ve got this.”

Something whistled through the air. Another splash came from the lake. The air went still, only the sound of the flames breaking the silence, even Arthur’s breath nonexistent as he waited for whatever it was Gwaine had planned.

Kilgarrah’s pained cry broke through the surface of the water as he emerged, crawling onto the banks. Gwaine dropped from a nearby tree and landed at Kilgarrah’s side. Before Kilgarrah could roll over, Gwaine plunged a hypo into his shoulder. Kilgarrah collapsed onto his stomach with a loud exhalation.

“About bloody time,” Gwaine said.

Arthur clapped a pair of cuffs on Agravaine, then sauntered over to Gwaine. “You talking to me or him?”

“That remains to be seen.” He toed Kilgarrah’s prone form, nodding in satisfaction when he wasn’t roused. “Mind giving me a lift? We’ve got a train to catch.”

“As long as you don’t expect me to be the one to carry him back to the van.”

Gwaine glanced back over his shoulder at Agravaine and grinned. “I suppose you’ll have your arms full anyway.” His dark eyes met Arthur’s, twinkling and warm. “Not bad for a night’s work.”

Arthur smiled back. “Yeah, not bad at all.”


	6. Chapter 6

The pub was a quiet hole-in-the-wall in Greenwich, if anything in Greenwich could ever be classified as quiet. At seven on a Tuesday night, the tourists had already cleared out, leaving the locals behind to rest up and prepare for the next wave the following day. Arthur scanned the cozy interior and found his quarry lounging at a table in the corner, a mostly empty pint in front of him.

When their eyes met, Gwaine smiled and said something to the dark man sitting with him. The man laughed and stood to amble off toward the bar. Arthur let him get all the way there before wending his way to Gwaine.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Arthur said.

Gwaine gave a wave of dismissal toward the recently departed man. “Just killing time until you got here. He’s not my type anyway. Thinks too much.”

Taking the chair opposite, Arthur felt his stomach drop a little at Gwaine’s assessment. “It was just a few days ago you were telling me I did the same thing.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Because with you, it’s always about the time and place.” He sprawled a little more loosely, an arm draped over the chair next to him, his leg dangerously close to Arthur’s beneath the table. It’d been four days since Kilgarrah’s recapture, and Gwaine looked like he’d just come back from holiday, all smiles and swagger, so closely resembling the man he’d known prior to Percival’s death that Arthur couldn’t help but smile. “How’s Uther?”

“Doing well.” He’d refused going to hospital to get checked out, but his private physician had deemed him mostly unscathed from the entire debacle. Arthur had spent over an hour grilling Gaius on the state of Uther’s health before leaving him alone for the night. “Agravaine’s been arrested.”

“I heard.” He gestured toward Arthur’s shoulder and the sling that kept his arm in place. “What about you?”

“Apparently, doctors disapprove of strenuous activity so soon after getting stitches.” The nerve block had worked too well. He’d managed to tear open the injury without knowing and let it bleed out until Gaius noticed he was ready to pass out when he dropped Uther off at the house. “I spent more time with the doctors than Father did.”

Gwaine winked. “He was probably cute, then.”

“ _She_ was a tyrant. I’m out of the field for the next couple weeks, on top of wearing the sling.”

“Ouch.”

“You look good.”

“Permanent state.”

“I’m guessing since I haven’t heard any more random arson reports, you got Kilgarrah to Edinburgh safely.”

“Where he will be locked behind bars for the next twenty years, if all goes well.” Gwaine picked up his pint and held it out. “Cheers.”

Arthur took the time Gwaine needed to drain his glass to summon the rest of the courage that would get him through the next few minutes. Finding the nerve to ring Gwaine and ask for the meeting had taken him nearly two days, and it would all be over in a matter of moments if he went about it wrong.

“I decided to take your advice, actually,” he started. “Desk work isn’t my area of expertise.”

Gwaine swiped his tongue over his lower lip, his gaze heavy and contemplative. “We can’t all be perfect. Which advice are you referring to?”

“The break.”

“I thought you said you just came back from holiday.”

“And you said I needed something a little more distanced than that.”

“Since when do you pay any attention to what I have to offer?”

Arthur smiled. “I’ve always paid attention. It’s the timing’s that never been quite right.” When Gwaine’s eyes dropped to where he played with the condensation ring on the heavy wood table, Arthur panicked. “Look, I know how you felt about Percival. I can’t say that I blame you. I miss him, too. He was a great bloke, a terrific friend. But you’ve done what you could for him. Kilgarrah can’t hurt anyone any more. And I’d like the chance to spend some real time with you.” He fumbled, at a loss for words, except to add, “I thought we worked well together the other night.”

A fresh fervor enriched Gwaine’s tone. “We were bloody fantastic.”

“So?”

“So…” The corner of his mouth tipped, his insolence returning. “Took you long enough.”

Arthur laughed. No words had ever seemed so sweet. “Let me get us a couple of pints to celebrate, then.”

As he stood, Gwaine rose as well, ending toe to toe when he stepped closer. “Just so we’re clear,” he murmured, “I’d planned on ringing once I got back to town. I figured no reason for both of us to be stubborn gits, right?”

“Absolutely none.” On a whim, Arthur leaned forward and brushed a chaste kiss across Gwaine’s unsuspecting mouth. When he pulled back, they were both smiling.

“Arthur Pendragon likes public displays?” Gwaine clicked his tongue in mock reproof. “That was a door you did not want to open, mate.”

He felt lighter than he had in months as he turned on his heel and headed toward the bar. “Don’t be an idiot,” he tossed over his shoulder. “That was exactly what I intended.”


End file.
